


That One Moment

by Jrade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Death, Gen, Retribution, Set before during and after the Retribution event, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade
Summary: It's a secret mission. An important mission. Get in, get Antonio, and get him back to Overwatch where he can answer for his crimes. For the attack on Blackwatch's headquarters in Rome.An important mission. A simple mission....gone terribly wrong. One little change sets a whole cascade in motion, and the four members of Blackwatch are left to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.(An exploration into thoughts and backstory regarding the Retribution event, and how it fits into the Underwatch 'verse. Also some snark and gunfights.)





	That One Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: blood and death but it's not overly focused on. Paranoid thoughts on Gabriel's part

There were two guards, one flanking either side of the door.

_Two._

It was almost insulting.

Gabriel Reyes gestured with a silent chuckle, but even the gesture was hardly needed. A pair of shuriken whistled as they split the air next to his ear and flew forward.

The Talon armour was impressive. They obviously weren’t using just whatever they could find - this had been clearly designed with the intent not just of protection, but of assault. These weren’t just security guards, they weren’t just trying to turn aside a stray bullet.

These people put most soldiers that Reyes had seen - or fought alongside - to shame, at least in terms of kit. They were more heavily-armoured than his own team was, and his team was _actively on a strike._

There was nothing stray about Genji’s shuriken, though, not in the slightest. They embedded themselves in the throats of the two guards who then slumped down to the ground.

“Nicely done, Shimada.” Reyes turned to offer the ninja a nod.

It was all he got in return. A sharp-eyed stare, direct and intense, and a single nod.

“Heh. Not feeling talkative, are we?” Reyes flashed a smirk in Jesse’s direction, the cowboy chuckling softly.

“Almost as if we’re on some sort of _covert mission.”_ Moira O’Deorian’s thick but soft voice carried forward from the back of the group, dripping with sarcasm which widened the grin on Reyes’ lips.

They _were_ on such a mission, indeed. As simple as it was insane and dangerous: infiltrate a Talon facility, hopefully without sounding any alarms. Capture Antonio. Return him to Overwatch where he could be questioned.

Reyes’ thoughts darkened as he considered it, the team of four moving wordlessly and soundlessly forward to the door.

Antonio. Talon.

_Gérard._

The thoughts spun in his head and bled through darkly into his eyes and his scowl as Genji knelt and began to pick the lock. The Talon bastards had struck them in their home - so, this was payback. Hit them back, just the same, where it hurt in their homes. Where they thought they were safe.

Talon had been up to a lot, but they hadn’t previously done anything as gutsy as their assault on the Rome facility - blowing up Blackwatch’s headquarters there. Antonio must have known they were getting close.

_How?_

That was the truly dark thought. The bit that spread from worrying into true panic.

_How._

How had Antonio known they were getting closer, how had Talon? How had they slipped an operative so easily through the security nets of Overwatch? How had they snuck a bomb into the building?

A hell of a question. One which had nearly gotten Gérard killed.

Antonio would answer it, though - and then he’d answer _for_ it as well.

The door open, the team of four fanned out into the next room. McCree kept his Peacekeeper holstered out of concern for its noise, but his fists were still plenty formidable and felled a trooper even as Genji took out the second member of the patrolling pair.

A noise and a movement drew Reyes’ eye: a Talon trooper up on a balcony, running toward a switch panel on a far wall. An alarm, probably.

McCree was fast, his revolver in hand almost instantly, but Reyes held up a hand just for an instant and then stepped forward.

It was a bizarre experience. Dissolving. Leaving… reality, leaving his body.

He didn’t like it. Intensely unsettling, but _undeniably_ useful.

The Trooper sounded so shocked, the little choked off noise they made as Reyes appeared in front of them - he rose up out of the floor in a swirl of smoke, reaching out to grab them by the throat. He wasted just enough time for a little triumphant grin before he slammed their helmet into the wall and then tossed them off of the balcony.

“You seem to be getting the knack of that,” Moira’s voice came over the radio. “No more incidents along the lines of January seventh, I take it?”

In lieu of words, he just nodded. It was a new skill, developed only since her experiments.

Things had been changing for a while. Getting slowly worse for a while.

The attack at Rome had been a sharp warning of just _how_ bad, and how widespread the problems were, but for Gabriel Reyes, they’d been sinking for quite some time. From discoveries and investigations gone wrong, to general bureaucracy being a pain in the ass.

Along with the small matter of having been shot dead by a sniper, only to wake up a few hours later.

Bryn. Serbia. Few years back. It had been so damned _cold_ there, even before he’d been shot, and his blood hadn’t even had the decency to warm up his hands as it spilled out over the snow.

That sniper had been damn surprised when Reyes woke up, though. Maybe even half as surprised as Reyes himself had been.

They’d done a lot of fucking around in the Supersoldier Enhancement Program, and it seemed that they’d got some things right. At first, it didn’t seem to be a big deal - not only was he not dead, but he even seemed to be a little better off than normal. Healing faster, stronger.

Medical wondered why, but he didn’t tell them about the sniper incident. Didn’t think they’d believe him, and he was on thin enough ice as it was with the Psych department. Only allowed to serve his post with medications, and he didn’t want them thinking he was going crazy on top of it. They wrote it off as some dormant side-effect of the SEP that had been activated by something on the mission, adrenaline levels or some bullshit, and they patted themselves on the back and took some blood samples for study.

Being in the field, though, he noticed plenty for himself. Big wounds healed faster, but he always felt a little off afterward. Hungry, irritable sometimes. Not a huge problem. Strength increase was always welcome, but it did have a few downsides - there had been an incident where he’d grabbed at a bottle of beer only to have it shatter in his hand.

At least the gashes had healed quickly.

A few other side effects as well, which got worse when he was more injured. One somewhat terrifying incident where he’d been stabbed and grabbed the assailant - just by the arm. No choke-hold, nothing like that.

Guy had still crumpled to the ground as _if_ he was being choked. Slowly. Gasping. Gone pale when he hit the ground, and when Gabe knelt to check his pulse, there was nothing to check.

...and the stab wound had been gone, too.

Maybe that was half of why he’d recruited O’Deorian, anyway, in hindsight. Figure out what the hell was going on with him. SEP had clearly fucked around, and who better than a scientist accused of unethical self-experimentation to help out with that, right?

So maybe he didn’t always have the _best_ possible ideas, but he sure as hell couldn’t trust _Overwatch’s_ medical staff. Not now. Not anymore.

It was a lot to think about, as the Trooper fell from the second-story balcony down to the floor. They landed with a heavy thump, didn’t move. Jesse nudged them with his foot as he wandered past.

“January seventh?” The cowboy glanced in Moira’s direction curiously.

“Mm.” She studied the walls and colonnades with moderate disinterest. “Evidently it was difficult to maintain a grasp on his weapons. Still investigating why they ended up being flung with such _force,_ however.”

They’d shattered the windows of the room where they were testing. Bulletproof windows, but when he’d shifted to smoke the shotguns had flown from his hands like bats out of hell and shattered them. Moira didn’t have that problem, of course, with her weaponry attached how it was.

He kept a tighter grip on the guns now, and it worked out.

It had taken a little getting used to, this new suite of powers he had access to, but all in all it was going quite well.

Reyes stood there for a second, looking at the ground past his toes as he balanced on the railing. So _many_ new things since Moira’s little experiment.

She’d wanted it to be Anderson, at first, but Reyes had refused that. He wasn’t endangering anyone on his team with something this experimental, something with with many unknown effects. He’d sat in the chair himself, instead.

In hindsight, maybe the effects were a little _more_ unknown for himself, given everything else that had happened with him, but he didn’t regret it for a moment.

Besides which, it was a little bit _odd_ to dissolve into smoke as he stepped off of the railing and fell to the floor, but it definitely had its uses. He still _felt_ like he was grinning, even though his face was incorporeal; being able to avoid damage entirely was very handy. Sure, he could still be caught by surprise and hurt before he had the chance to shift, but as long as he stayed on his toes - as long as he kept his eye out and stayed one step ahead…

That was the problem, though.

It had become abundantly clear that somebody _else_ was one step ahead of _him._

Talon’s attack on Blackwatch had been a shock, for so many reasons. Reyes couldn’t help his mind pulling back there as he resolidified on the floor, Jesse clapping him soundly on the shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that, partner,” the cowboy quipped, and Reyes chuckled in response.

He wasn’t sure he would get used to it either, but if someone was trying to eliminate them - and somebody clearly _was_ \- he’d take any advantage he could get.

Talon. They’d been getting gutsier and gutsier, more and more open, stirring the pot. It had come at the worst possible time, too, as Blackwatch had started to discover worrying things closer to home.

They went hand in hand though, really.

Someone had been leaking things out of Overwatch. Developments, weapons, ideas - maybe even people. They couldn’t be sure how far up it went, not yet. They didn’t know the full depth of it, but they’d been investigating.

He wondered whether Talon knew. Whether maybe _that_ was why they’d become so suddenly hostile, so desperate - if they knew that Blackwatch was on the tail of whoever was spoon-feeding them Overwatch’s developments, then of course they’d try to strike first.

It made sense.

There was only one way they could’ve found out, too. Obviously they had an inside person in Overwatch, or maybe more than one - whoever was siphoning things in their direction, for starters. Of course that person would give them tip-offs, too.

...which meant that, whoever the mole was, they were in a position _themselves_ within Overwatch to know about Blackwatch’s investigations. Maybe a member of one of the security teams, even, or perhaps IT.

He’d always hated IT staff just a little bit. Techies.

Reyes’ steps sharpened as he led the way toward the next door, but they still made little noise. Less noise than the Talon troopers around the next corner. Jesse decked one, and Moira stretched out a hand, purplish energy flowing from the trooper to her as her grin widened just a little.

He’d thought it was a bit creepy, at first, but he was starting to understand it now. He suspected that was the same grin he had when he shifted into smoke. The grin of being more than just human.

McCree shook his head with a chuckle as he knelt to check that the two fallen soldiers were truly out of it. “The two of you make me feel downright normal, you know. Sure, I’m a quick draw and I got this arm, but,” he chuckled again, “I’m only human.”

“Mmm, what’s in a human?” Moira mused, inspecting the machinery of her gloves and the tubing that ran along her arms to the tank on her back. “Have you ever inspected your own genome? They can change naturally over time, you know. This condition or that one from birth, as well - you might be lacking a chromosome, or have a duplicate or two. Different numbers of chromosomes, different arrangements, different dominant traits - yet, all human. What makes a human, but what we agree upon?”

It was a solid point as far as Reyes knew, he just chuckled and tipped his head instead of getting involved. This was only ending one way, regardless. There wasn’t much likelihood that _any_ of them were going to come out on top in that kind of debate with her - he could see it in her eyes, too, and in her slight smile. It didn’t even matter if she actually agreed with what she was saying at the moment, she just wanted to win the debate.

McCree frowned, standing from the fallen soldiers. “Well hold on now - there’s gotta be limits. After a while, after enough shit gets changed out or what-have-you, you’d end up not being human anymore. I mean, how much of-”

He was cut off as Genji shoved past him wordlessly.

With a single chuckle, Jesse hiked a thumb in the direction of Genji’s departing back. “Heh. Sensitive topic, I guess.”

It was lighthearted, the conversation. It was lighthearted because it had to be. Because they all knew the stakes.

Gérard, unconscious in a hospital bed. They said he’d make a full recovery, but Talon had struck at Blackwatch’s _headquarters_ so Reyes wasn’t taking any chances. Blackwatch guards had eyes on his room at all times to ensure his safety. _All_ times, Overwatch rules be damned.

The headquarters in Rome, destroyed. He still wasn’t sure how that had all gone down, exactly, with the bomb - a hell of a plan which had worked almost perfectly for them, and so many members of his team which had been buried because of it.

...and Overwatch wanted to let it go. Jack wanted-

Reyes shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts right _out_ of it. Yes, there was clearly some conspiracy going on. Something bad. Jack wasn’t a part of it, though.

Gabe trusted him.

He trusted his team, too, but Overwatch… it was so big, now. There were so many people there. Security, IT, admin, they all had access to so much if they decided to push it - even recruits could get their way around firewalls if they knew how, and there were so many of them, so very many.

He couldn’t trust all of them.

He _didn’t_.

Someone at Overwatch must have let something slip. Security codes, or at least the layout of the Rome facility. Maybe even more. Maybe they’d given the whole plan to Talon. Maybe they’d even given Talon the _bomb._

Reyes smirked darkly, and prayed for that person’s sake that he never found out who they were. If he did?

Well, they weren’t going to have a fun time of anything ever again.

Another pair of patrolling guards, more banter; the compound was easy. For all of their weapons, their armour, their tech, their resources, Talon didn’t seem to have a lot of _people._ Admittedly, they couldn’t have been expecting a counterattack like this, but still.

Only one door left, and this one didn’t even have any guards.

They snuck through as a unit, Reyes at the forefront with shotguns in hand, and already he could see the man. Their target. The cause of it all, Antonio.

Gabriel’s footfalls were almost silent, but there was still some shift in Antonio’s posture which suggested he knew they were there. That couldn’t be the case, though - he would have called an alarm earlier if he had.

“Good evening, Commander Reyes.”

The words made Gabe’s breath catch in his throat for half a second, as Antonio let out a chuckle. He was watching in the reflection of the glass, his eyes set into a broad, thick face. Sharp eyes that met Reyes’ own in the glass.

“Hm. How will this look on the news?” His voice was deep but smooth, powerful, accented; Gabriel had heard press releases from him before. Antonio wasn’t an unknown _person_ , he was just up to a lot of generally unknown _things._ Clandestine things.

Like his association with Talon, for instance - but all of that was going to change, here, tonight. They were taking him back, and they were going to make him sing like a diva on opening night. That was the plan.

Antonio didn’t seem worried, though - not in the slightest. He smirked, still facing away, but it was clearly visible in the reflection. He knew they were there, he must have been able to put together how they’d got in.

He didn’t seem afraid. He should have been, but he wasn’t. Four armed special operatives just waltzed through his guarded compound, weapons in hand, and he didn’t seem to give half a shit.

Something shifted, uncomfortably and nervously, in Gabe’s gut.

This wasn’t right.

“Overwatch unlawfully abducting a respected businessman?” Antonio turned around as he spoke, to face them, openly and unafraid.

It wasn’t right.

He knew why they were there. That they weren’t here to kill him, they were here to abduct him, to take him away - he couldn’t have guessed that from their entry, from their presence. Maybe from the fact that he was still alive; maybe he presumed that, since he hadn’t been killed _yet_ , he wasn’t going to be killed at all.

It seemed like more than that. It _felt_ like more than that, in Gabe’s gut - and he’d always trusted his gut. Something in Antonio’s eyes, something in his expression, the way he looked back at them…

...he _knew._ He did know, Gabe could see that. How could he know? He’d known this whole time - had known since they stepped into the room, maybe even since they’d set foot on the compound. Reyes could see it in his eyes. How had he known?

He couldn’t have, _nobody_ knew, this wasn’t even an official mission. It hadn’t been registered in Overwatch’s databases, it had never been sanctioned or okayed, it wasn’t _on the book,_ so whatever mole Talon had, whatever information leak was there, it couldn’t have been responsible.

Unless…

...unless it was so much worse than Reyes had ever feared. Unless it went so much _higher_ than he’d thought, so much deeper - he’d gathered information on the leaks, he thought he’d stored it safely. Manual data, nothing electronic to be retrieved, all physical files in folios. Safe.

Unless it went deeper than he’d ever feared.

Unless they were two steps ahead.

Unless they had  _Jack._

No, not Jack - Jack wouldn't betray his teammates like that, wouldn't betray Gérard or Jesse or Gabriel like that, even if things had been a little tenser lately than they had in the past. Even if things had been a little strained, Jack would  _never_ betray a teammate or a friend, but maybe somebody else. Some trusted advisor - this mission hadn't been logged  _officially,_ but that didn't mean Jack hadn't told  _anybody._ Whoever he'd mentioned it to must have let it spill.

Or maybe Talon had installed bugs throughout the facility, and standard sweeps hadn't managed to catch them; maybe they'd intercepted it some other way.

Still, Antonio continued to speak - and it didn’t even feel like speaking anymore, it felt like boasting, like bragging, as Gabriel’s stomach dropped and his blood ran cold at the look in Antonio’s eyes. “Even if you take me now, my _friends_ would have me released within the week.”

He grinned.

 _Friends._ His friends. What, his friends in Talon? They could break him out, sure, but _release?_ Unlikely. Talon were established in politics, too - but to get a terrorist like him released? From an organization operating under an international doctrine, too - sure, Overwatch would be likely to bow to enough international pressure, but it would need to be a lot and it wouldn’t be _fast._ Wouldn’t be a week.

That wouldn’t be enough. Not for this certainty, not for this bravado - he could be blowing hot air, in theory, but Antonio wasn’t stupid and Reyes knew it. Talon wasn’t who he meant by _friends._ Couldn’t have been.

He must have meant Overwatch.

Gabe almost reeled at Antonio’s grin then, hitting him like a punch. He stared deep into the huge man’s eyes, defied him to deny it.

He didn’t.

“All of these… _theatrics,”_ Antonio gestured with his chin, confirming (as if any confirmation was needed) that he’d been following their infiltration the whole time, “have been a waste of our time.”

Waste of time. All of it. Gérard was going to get nothing, Rome was going to get nothing - Lindsson and Caraway and MacDougal and Rizio, Florez, Ciccone, all of them. Every member of Blackwatch who died. They were all going to get nothing.

Waste of time.

Gabe dropped his head with half a chuckle, but it wasn’t a happy one. Wasn’t amused, at all, because Antonio was right - Blackwatch had clearly been expected here, today. They’d been set up to fail. The conspiracy must have gone deeper into Overwatch than expected, and that meant taking Antonio in would do… nothing at all.

It explained it all, in fact. Why Talon had been more desperate lately, and more effective as well - if _they_ weren’t behind it at all, it made perfect sense. Whoever had their hands buried in Overwatch was trying to defend themselves ever since Blackwatch had caught onto their trail however long ago that had been. They’d fed more to Talon in order to take Blackwatch down, to save their own asses.

It had nearly worked, too. Rome...and now this.

They couldn’t take Antonio now, and he obviously knew it: that boastful grin, the look in his eyes.

 _Seemed like such a good plan on paper._ Gabe’s thoughts ran swiftly as he caught a glimpse of the others out of the corner of his eye.

If this went deeper…

...if this went deeper, then they needed to know that Blackwatch was serious. That his team wouldn’t just back down.

They came here to do a job.

Reyes looked back up to Antonio with a soft smirk on his lips. “You’re right.”

The shotgun blast was almost deafening. So sharp, so sudden, and Reyes got a thrill of satisfaction out of the shock on Antonio’s face as he was blasted backward out of the window.

Whoever was behind this, they needed to know that Blackwatch wasn’t fucking around. They wouldn’t be scared off by some bold-faced businessman-turned-terrorist. They wouldn’t turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

They wouldn’t let attacks on their own go unanswered.

Jesse grabbed at his gun arm as alarms started to sound, pulling him around to glare. “Reyes! What did you do?”

His instinctual response was to say _“I just shot a guy, Jesse - try and keep up,”_ but the kid didn’t give him a chance to crack the joke.

“This was _not_ the plan!”

The plan? No, this wasn’t the plan.

Gérard getting put in the hospital wasn’t the plan. Their Rome facility being infiltrated and blown up wasn’t the plan. Overwatch having moles and security leaks wasn’t the plan. Somebody inside the organization feeding information and resources to Talon and other groups _wasn’t the plan._

It had happened anyway. Clearly, the universe’s current opinion on the subject was, “Fuck the plan.”

Gabe was happy to comply.

He glanced back to the others - Shimada had drawn his blade, and Moira simply stood, smiling softly, ready. A dependable team, a _trustworthy_ team, they were who he needed. They were _what_ he needed, not Overwatch with its rules and its corruption.

“Well…” his shoulders lifted just slightly in a shrug, “looks like we’re going with Plan B.”

He looked back to Jesse with a grin, but the cowboy still had a sour look underneath his ridiculous hat. He would come around, though, he’d figure it out - he was a little slow on the uptake, sometimes, but he was trustworthy.

That was what Gabe needed.

Jesse pulled out his revolver with a huff and a shake of his head. He didn’t understand yet, Gabriel could see that on his face - could _feel_ it, radiating from the cowboy like heat; he didn’t know why the plan had changed so suddenly, and he wasn’t happy about it.

He’d always been a little slow to come around, but Gabe still had a grim smile on his lips, because even though Jesse didn’t understand, he was still backing up a friend. A teammate.

Jesse would never abandon a teammate, and Gabe respected that.

Alarms sounding, doors slammed tight shut - they could breach out, though. Of course they could. It only raised the question of why the blast doors hadn’t been closed _to start with._ The four of them had been able to waltz right in, even though Antonio had obviously expected them.

McCree spoke up first. “So, what do we do now, Boss?”

He didn’t sound particularly bitingly sarcastic, but Gabe figured it was a set-up for something. It would be easy to tell, too. “We get out of this room, then head through the city to the extraction point. After that,” he shrugged with a smirk, “we sit tight and hope somebody comes to pick us up.”

The cowboy’s voice was thick with sarcasm when he responded. “Quite a _Plan B,_ not sure why I was even worried.”

Sarcasm was good. Gabe could work with sarcasm. The only thing he couldn’t work with was a team that didn’t trust him, or one he didn’t trust, and he knew that such a divergence from the plan might’ve come dangerously close to causing that.

It was good to hear Jesse cracking wise in his own predictable dumbass way, though. Reassured Reyes that things weren’t unsalvageable.

Not yet, at least.

As they set the charge, though, it was only more clear what had happened here. They’d been set up. They weren’t supposed to be stopped on their way in.

They were supposed to be killed on their way out.

Gabe’s eyes flicked to the side as a door beeped, the light above it flashing. Talon wanted them dead, alright - they just wanted it in the right place, at the right time. Blackwatch, caught red-handed, that was what they wanted.

That wasn’t going to happen. It was time to send a message to Talon, and to the unseen hand that Gabe could now feel behind their every movement. Looking back over the months, he could see it: Oslo, every scuffle and skirmish, it wasn’t just Talon. Maybe it wasn’t Talon at all, but either way, Talon was who was here _now._

The rest could wait until later.

He swirled through unseen dimensions, stepping out behind the unaware troopers; between his shotguns and Jesse’s bullets, they were gone in seconds. Another group kicked through a door, splinters of wood scattering off of Genji’s armour as he whirled and sliced them to pieces.

One fool was even stupid enough to lower his rifle and grab Moira around the neck - to threaten her, maybe, and try to coerce the team, but she clutched at his arm with a long-nailed hand and he crumpled to the ground.

The troopers even came in through the ceiling, smashing through glass dramatically, but Gabe just rolled his eyes and had two of them dead before they even touched the ground.

The four took their positions, a pair on either side of the door, as the breaching charge finished its work. Moira sprayed a thin, yellow-gold fluid over a gash in Jesse’s arm to heal it, and the charge blew, flinging the circular cutout of the blast door outward into a small courtyard.

Gabe’s grin widened when the pilot came in over the radio. Also obviously a little confused over the change of plans, but never any hesitation, no questioning.

They advanced slowly, cautiously. For a moment, they wondered whether maybe the response had been limited to that one room - but every one of them knew better than to actually expect that to be the case.

Entirely unexpected, however, was the next arrival. Dropping down in a swirling miasma of purple smoke and then resolving into a solid figure - Gabe’s blood chilled at the sight, the similarity, the familiarity. His eyes flashed to Moira who looked right back at him with a tiny shake of her head and anger in her gaze.

He knew that Talon was being fed intel from Overwatch. He hadn’t expected to see anything this drastic, though - as the soldier whipped away on some kind of grappling hook and then took a position with a long rifle, he couldn’t shake the sight of that purple mist.

Somebody had been stealing a lot, and for a long time. They’d dug _deep_ , whoever they were - if even Moira’s developments were getting out to Talon.

Gabe couldn’t help but fear what _else_ they might’ve taken. If they’d stolen the developments which Moira had integrated into herself, and modified into him - what else might they have access to? Who else might they have _sold_ it to? How many mercenaries and terrorists out there were being powered by stolen Overwatch resources, alongside Talon?

How far _out_ did it go? How far up? How much had this cancer spread?

The sniper was fast. Fast, and deadly accurate - Gabe had only an instant’s warning, the bullet neatly burrowing a tunnel through the smoke that had been his head just before that. Very accurate, very fast.

Notable shortcomings in CQ, though - close-quarters combat was not a strength, and the dinky bullets of the sniper’s tiny handgun plinked off of Gabe’s armour in the moments between when he stepped out of shadow, and when he shredded them to bits with his shotguns.

More troopers. Out of the doors and surrounding buildings, off of skiffs that came in - they were dispatched as they came, Genji’s sword-blade whirling to deflect bullets, Jesse rolling under attacks and coming up with a flurry of shots and a grin.

There were so _many_ of them, dropships flitting through the skies as well. Moira glanced up at one point, shaking her head slightly. “So much for keeping a low profile.” Her lips hardly moved as she spoke. “The entire city must be awake now.”

Gabe couldn’t disagree, because she was right. That was only further confirmation, though - where was anyone else? Civilians, anyone; there didn’t seem to be anyone here who didn’t have a suit of Talon armour in their closet.

Shopfronts and homes all around but there weren’t any screams or any shouts, any lights coming on and then snapping off again or windows flying open as people tried to investigate the gunshots coming from the streets below.

As if every single person in the city was working for Talon anyway, and had known ahead of time just what to expect. Moira was entirely right. As if the entire city was already awake, already roused, already bearing weapons and ready to gun them down.

“Let’s just get out of here alive,” Gabe grunted, clutching his shotguns a little tighter. He felt just a little bit too much like a mouse in a corner with the cats closing in, and he didn’t like it.

“Perhaps next time, we might select a less suicidal plan of attack?” Moira had a hint of a smirk on her lips as she tossed out a bright yellow orb, tendrils from it stretching out to every member of their party and patching holes, healing wounds, in flesh or machinery alike.

Reyes had to laugh, the humour cutting through the fugue of paranoia and anxiety. Yeah the whole city was awake. Yeah, everyone here was obviously on Talon’s side. Yeah, Talon had clearly seen them coming. Yeah, it was a suicide mission.

For them.

For every Talon soldier stupid enough to jump out of a dropship, it was a suicide mission - for every one who leapt off of a boat with their guns blazing, every one who sought to still Genji’s blade or turn aside Jesse’s revolver, to silence Gabe’s shotguns or resist Moira’s drain; for every one of _them,_ it was a suicide mission.

They breached through doors before the squad of four could even start to do so - Talon was just a bare step ahead of them on their way out of the city, and every passing moment only confirmed it all the more. All of these troops, all at the ready - the boats and the airships - this had been intentional. Maybe they hadn’t known it would be a suicide mission, but they’d _known._

These weren’t guards. These were soldiers, kill-squads, hell-bent on destroying the Blackwatch team before they escaped.

Something impossibly fast came at them in the next clearing, blurring Gabe’s vision when it leapt from wall to wall - its blades looked every bit as deadly as Genji’s, and as it leapt from the wall and started to sprint toward them, it seemed as if a clash would be inevitable.

Genji’s blade proved superior, though, as he dashed forward. In an instant, he was at the assailant’s far side, holding perfectly still as the assassin crumpled to their knees and then collapsed entirely.

“Sure are a lot of ‘em,” Jesse chirped, nudging the fallen assassin with his toe. “Guess it’s a good thing we brought the ninja!”

The ninja in question stared down at the body for a few seconds, then sheathed his blade and walked away silently with nothing more than a glance up at McCree.

“Good talk,” the cowboy called after him with a little halfhearted and lighthearted wave.

Lighthearted, because they knew the stakes. Lighthearted because it was obvious how they’d been set up. Lighthearted because they refused to surrender to fear any more than they would surrender to Talon’s guns.

The pilot came over the radio. “What’s your status, Commander?”

Status? Their status was under assault, in an unfamiliar city beyond the reach of support, and one hundred percent intentionally - their _status_ was hung up and left out to dry.

Their status was _betrayed._

“Art gallery’s in sight,” Reyes grunted, trying to refuse his heart’s efforts to hammer and his skin’s attempts to prickle. “We’ll be there shortly.”

“The whole _city’s_ flushed with Talon soldiers!” The pilot sounded incredulous, unbelieving, and Reyes couldn’t blame her. He could hardly believe it himself - maybe wouldn’t, if he wasn’t in the middle of it. “Whatever you did’s got them riled up!”

Jesse shot him a look at that, dark and hurt, and Gabe felt it in his gut. He didn’t like the idea of how this might look to them, to his team, but it was a necessity - whoever had set them up here was obviously working with Talon and they’d had unknown amounts of time to prepare. They obviously had high position in Overwatch as well.

If the four of them wanted to survive this - not just _tonight_ , but all of this - they couldn’t let on that they knew anything. They needed to be more careful and more covert than ever before, they needed to take the most cautious measures.

They needed to get a step ahead, for once. They couldn’t be _reacting_ any more, they needed to act first.

He would tell them, as soon as he could, but here and now was neither the place nor the time. Too likely to be overheard - captured by microphones on the walls, or parabolics on the rooftops. Or even, Reyes thought with a twinge, on devices hidden _in their uniforms._

Whoever had done this had hands deep on the inside of Overwatch, and Blackwatch. They’d known this mission was going to happen.

Of course they would have taken precautions.

Gabe shook his head silently, gritting his teeth and resolving not to say _anything_ that would give it away. Maybe if they came out of this with it seeming like just some mission gone horribly wrong, it would be alright. Maybe they could convince whoever was behind this conspiracy that they were safe. That they didn’t need to worry. They could let their guard down.

Then, Blackwatch could strike - but for now, they just had to stay alive and stay unknown.

Something huge with twin rotary cannons came down like a meteor, striking the middle of a plaza before it charged at Reyes, and it looked a hell of a lot like Reinhardt when it did.

No shield, though: a difference which the team exploited to devastating effect.

Gabe kicked at the lump as it smoked on the ground. It _bled._ Somewhere in there there was a person, although Gabe wasn’t sure if even Moira would consider them _Human_ anymore from the looks of things.

No time to stop and find out, though. They had to keep moving.

They entered the art gallery, a high dome above their head showing starlight. For a moment, before it shattered as Talon troops came through.

“Picked up some company on the way in,” the pilot announced over the radio. “I’m gonna try to shake them, but it might take a little while.”

Gabe could only be glad that Talon’s dropships didn’t seem to be _armed._ A stupid oversight, but one he was glad for - it meant his team might survive this, and that his pilot might as well. No strafing runs and no dogfighting. “No problem,” he sent back with a grin as he dispatched two of the Talon troops, “we’re used to waiting around.”

“...and gettin’ shot at,” McCree provided in an irritated grumble.

“And getting shot at,” Reyes confirmed with half a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Moira dropped a soldier to the ground with a laugh - not a deep, full one, but just one that was subtle and slight. A single amused exhalation. “You two are _adorable.”_

Gabe flashed her a shameless grin, ducking under one of the bigger trooper’s shotgun blast as he swirled into smoke and then coalesced on the other side, removing a hole from the trooper’s torso that was anything but neat as his own shotgun answered back.

Then came another assassin into the maelstrom, with its blades so hauntingly familiar - electric red clashing against Genji’s green as he swung and the assassin parried, then leapt to the wall. It flashed from place to place, circling the room as the team was forced to deal with the other Talon soldiers.

McCree knocked a trooper’s gun to the side with his forearm, ending the soldier’s life with a single bullet from the revolver before dropping into a roll that brought him underneath the twin barrels of a huge shotgun. He kicked upward, sending the blast high as Moira disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to reappear behind the trooper with a purple arc trailing from him to her as the soldier groaned and then crumpled to his knees.

Gabe didn’t even have time to warn about the red flash, the assassin leaping from behind and taking Moira to the ground. She shouted out as Gabe leapt forward, knocking down a soldier with a heavy kick from his even heavier boot.

One of Jesse’s flashbang grenades stunned the assailant long enough for Moira to shove it off, and Genji’s blade and Gabe’s shotguns combined forces to kill it almost immediately.

Moira was on her feet in a second when McCree offered his hand, and the four proceeded through into what would be - one way or another - the final location for this battle. The landing zone for their dropship.

Wherever it was.

“What’s keeping our ride?” Gabe muttered under his breath, scanning the surroundings. An alarm sounded, and they all pressed against corners or columns where they could - Talon forces soon began to spill out as they had all night: from the doors, from elevators, from boats, from dropships, it almost seemed like they were coming right out of the walls.

“Something tells me the army of bad guys convergin’ on our position isn’t helpin’!” McCree’s revolver rang out loud, repeatedly and true - every gunshot was a fallen soldier, and he crouched behind a low wall again to reload quickly.

Moira chuckled, standing to throw a dark purple orb of swirling energy out. Tendrils lashed from it to every enemy, and Gabe didn’t know how it _worked_ but he knew that he never wanted to find himself on the other end of it.

“McCree’s instincts are, as ever,” Moira smirked, letting the moment hang, “...unimpeachable.”

It seemed as if the city itself wanted them destroyed. An endless stream of bullets, of bodies; Gabe lost count of how many hit him, tearing holes in his body armour and in his flesh, only to be healed either by Moira’s aid or by his own newfound abilities. The worse they hurt him, the harder he hit back, and every splash of blood on their side felt _good._

It would’ve been a little worrying, maybe, if he’d had time to worry about it. He didn’t, though. He didn’t have time for _anything_ , as his shotguns sang constantly in their metronomic rhythm.

Genji’s blade flashed through crowds, followed by troopers collapsing in heaps; a sharp crack above everything else was another sniper, and Reyes swung around, but by the time he spotted her, she was already falling to the ground below with Genji standing in her spot.

No time to celebrate that victory, though, as another one came a moment later, and another one of the bladed assassins, and more and more troopers. It was hard to stay sharp, hard to stay in tune and on their toes, but they did it. They did it _flawlessly,_ because they were a team.

Gabe let off a blast that threw a trooper off and back into the water, bending over to provide a surface for McCree to roll on and come up with his Peacekeeper snapping off every shot in the cylinder, and as he reloaded, shuriken flew over his shoulder like angry wasps hissing as they split the air and soundlessly buried themselves in soldiers before they could even get off of the boat. A golden orb floated amongst the four, healing every bullet hole and every bruise, every gash and ragged wound, even as a purple tendril lashed out and pulled the life from hapless troopers.

Despite it all, the roaring of the heavy units and the laughter of the assassins and the constant, constant gunfire, the pilot’s voice cut clearly through. “Commander, I have a visual on your position. I’m coming in for a landing, but it’s gonna be a little hot.”

A little hot. Gabe had to let out a laugh at that, even as a bullet pierced his side and he lashed out with an arm, grabbing the one who’d shot him and slamming their helmeted head into one of his armoured knees. “Everyone get ready to get on-board.”

McCree was already on the rooftop above him, taking opportunistic shots with his revolver. “‘Bout damn time,” the cowboy grunted as Genji ran forward, his feet and hands gripping onto the smooth wall as easily as a ladder.

Gabe stepped forward past him, whirling in smoke and bullets as he unleashed everything he had; the physical restrictions didn’t matter anymore, not in this new space he could access. If he was fully shifted, he was beyond anything - couldn’t be shot, but couldn’t shoot either - but he was learning that there was a middle ground.

A middle ground of devastation and death as he blurred the lines between reality and whatever shadowy realm he’d been given the keys to; as his shotgun barrels glowed red-hot, lead flying from them in quantities beyond what they were capable of in normal space. Gabriel spun in circles, his arms blurring like the whirling blades of a lawnmower, and every one of those soldiers was a blade of grass.

A few seconds later, it was done. He collapsed back into himself, into the real world, his guns sizzling at his side as he panted and looked around at the sea of devastation, but there was nobody left standing in it.

For two seconds.

A loud noise heralded the arrival of another of the heavy assault units, with its twin rotary cannons; and then _another,_ and doors continued to open up, and Reyes just stared around wide-eyed for a second.

How could they hope to stand against this? Even to just _survive,_ forget about _winning - how?_ It was impossible.

The pilot’s voice came in again, snapping Gabe out of his moment of daze; hot jet exhaust washed over him, and he let it spur him on to dissolve and reappear on the rooftop as the dropship came around and swung into position.

“Doors are open, everyone get on board so we can get out of here!”

Reyes shook his head, urging everyone onto the ship and then backing on himself, keeping his guns trained out at the scene and blaring. “Not a second too soon,” he mumbled, and then the ship began to pull away.

He kept up his fire, shooting until the doors actually closed, and beside him Jesse was doing just the same - and beside him, Shimada, and Moira after that. Every one of them, giving everything they had even after it was all over.

...and that was how they were going to survive. How they were going to _win_. How they were going to beat not just Talon, but also whoever was behind them - whoever had a terrorist organization as a puppet and had their arms elbow-deep in Overwatch as well.

That was how they were going to get justice for Gérard, and for Anderson, and for all the others as well. That was how they were going to find their victory.

Giving all they had, as a team.

As long as they stuck together, nothing could defeat them - and if nothing else, tonight had proved that.

“Well-done, team,” Reyes sighed, holstering his guns and wiping at his face. He felt too old for this, by far, and it was only getting started.

“Well-done my _ass,”_ McCree hissed, grabbing at Gabe’s harness; Reyes caught his wrist and held it there, staring the cowboy down across the small distance that separated them. “What the _fuck_ was that, Gabe?”

He held McCree’s glare for another moment, but his heart wasn’t in it, and with a small sigh, he sagged and looked away. Looked toward the doors of the dropship where bullets pinged off harmlessly, fewer and fewer as the seconds ticked on and they increased their distance.

What was that? That was somebody playing their hand too early, and now Gabe could call their bluff. That was a smug asshole getting his comeuppance. That was easily one of the top five scariest days of Gabriel Reyes’ life.

Maybe even top three.

What was it?

“That…” Reyes sighed again, shaking his head as McCree let go of the front of his harness. “That was just the beginning.”

He let his eyes fall closed, taking a deep breath in and holding it - not as long as he could, but for a fair while before he let it out through his nose, and when he opened his eyes again they were all still there. All still looking to him and waiting for an explanation, for orders.

His _team._

“I know that was unexpected,” he murmured, meeting each of their gazes in turn, “but I promise, I will explain it all.”

McCree made a motion that seemed to say _go ahead then,_ but Reyes shook his head. “Now’s not the time. It _will_ happen, though. You have my word on that. For now, just… well-done, and thank you.”

One by one, they nodded, and stepped away - Moira tending to any final wounds at first, but they they all took their separate positions around the inside of the dropship.

Moira went to one corner, making slight adjustments to her equipment. Little puffs of purple or yellow mist came infrequently as she twisted knobs and changed flow rates.

Genji sat in the middle of the dropship on the floor, cross-legged, and drew out his blade to sharpen in long, slow, even strokes, but there was something vicious in the calm motion. In the concentration he put into honing the blade’s edge.

McCree checked over his revolver, unloaded it, cleaned it once, and then just laid back across a whole row of seat with his hat laid over his face as if having a nap. Gabe was sure he could feel a pair of eyes staring back darkly from underneath, though.

As for him, he just stayed where he was, backing up a step to lean against the door and cross his arms, and ran through it all in his head. He felt like he’d been stumbling across one bread crumb after another, and now he could see the trail. Now he could see it, and it led straight home.

...if it hadn’t been the trail of a monster he was tracking, he might have been so excited, but now he was left with dark thoughts swirling like clouds in his head, and pain and fear churning his gut.

Oslo. Rome. Now Venice. Missions gone wrong - little things started to catch in his mind. One day that Anderson went down to Medical for a minor issue but was sent immediately back to quarters, without even being checked over. Hendricks saying that she was turned away from the mess hall by Security, and twenty minutes later they were gone. Davis having their workout gear stolen three times in a row from the lockers.

What was deliberate? What previously innocuous thing was actually one more twist of whatever dark hand had brought them here - which seemingly meaningless events were actually more bread crumbs on the trail?

Gabriel didn’t know. He didn’t know how far it went, or who he could trust. Even the names of those he’d once considered his closest friends started to raise alarm bells in his mind. Two weeks ago, when he’d gone to the firing range and Ana had immediately stripped down her rifle and left without a word. Last month when Jack called off yet another dinner; he was stressed, sure, but how much of it was stress?

What if there was something more sinister at play?

He tried to tell himself that that couldn’t be the case, that it was impossible. He tried - leaning there against the inside of the dropship's hull, he tried  _so hard_ to tell himself that it was impossible, that Ana wouldn't do that, that Jack wouldn't. Impossible. It was impossible.

So was Talon getting past their defences. So was Antonio knowing they were coming for him. So was so much that had happened lately. Impossible.

He _tried_ to tell himself that it couldn’t be the case, that this conspiracy was just paranoia and not reality, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

He let out a sigh, dropping his head back until it hit metal, and hoped it might stop spinning.

It didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Gknghnghjknggghhhhh this took so long, I've been- I basically haven't written for a month. I got to about 500 words from the end of this and then life interrupted and just _byeh_ but now I'm back. Maybe. Kinda. I _hope_ I'm back at least!
> 
> Okay, so - this here is me drawing Retribution into the fold of Underwatch, as backstory for BSN and the stories that will follow it. I started thinking as I read the comic and started playing the event, that it just fit so perfectly. I love it, honestly - this fits so beautifully well with what I'd already written in BSN and decided for Underwatch generally, and I'd love to talk about that more if anyone's interested, heh. Please, hit me up if you are :D
> 
> So, lots of stuff here: little bits of characterization for Genji, for Moira, for Gabe, for Jesse. Truth be told, I don't know which reality I actually _think_ happened in Overwatch's official backstory, but I think this one fits; and, besides, as much of this could be Gabe's paranoia as actual reality anyway.
> 
> ...however I gotta say, stuff like the blast door only slamming down _after_ they killed Antonio, and just generally the lack of alarms; like sure, they're a spec ops team, but what, Talon doesn't have a "check in on the radio every five minutes on your patrol" rule? They don't have bio-monitors on their guards? They don't have cameras? Heh - I mean, I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm just saying that in my opinion it'd be pretty realistic to think that Talon _knew_ the Blackwatch team was coming. Not required, but realistic - and that just dovetails perfectly with a conspiracy of corruption within Overwatch.
> 
> This also inspired me to write some things just after Reaper joins up with Talon later. Some things about him and perhaps some changes to Talon's dropships - like um, maybe making them gunships? Or perhaps for later iterations of the sniper platform, giving her a better CQ option than a handgun - like, maybe, some kind of automatic assault rifle or something like that. Just, y'know, ideas :D
> 
> If you liked this, maybe take a look at some of the other things in the 'verse; it all kinda ties together, and it spreads all around the Overwatch timeline, and has entries into all kinds of writing genres, too. Funnier stuff, angstier stuff, more action-y stuff, smuttier stuff - there's plenty, and it's only gonna be more as time goes on! :D
> 
> Okay, I've got more coming. I have so many ideas for this universe, folks, I just love it and I hope you do too. Sorry for taking such a long and unannounced hiatus, hopefully it won't happen again, or certainly not too much, heh. Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear from you below, and I hope you have a really great day! <3


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